


What is Left of Us

by karinukita



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, How Do I Tag, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Conqueror of Shamballa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karinukita/pseuds/karinukita
Summary: As Riza Hawkeye helps Amestris recover from the events of The Conquerors of Shamballa, she allows her mind to drift back into her past, where she was young and not expected to be a heartless soldier. The events of the present bring back memories from her traumatizing childhood with an abusive father to the joyous days she spent with the Elrics and the other members of Roy's unit.





	1. Black, the Grief

**Author's Note:**

> I had finished CoS and for some reason I couldn't stop crying, so I started babbling onto the computer and ended up with a story. Basically, this is my mind merging lots of my imaginated events of Riza's life into one big chunk of letters

**sometimes things go so wrong the world turns black.**  
**it is only then that you may consider yourself struck by grief.**

* * *

 

"They're gone."

Roy Mustang looked at the now asleep transmutation circle and frowned. "They're gone."

Central City was enveloped by a sorrowful silence. Night was lurking in, the sky painted by an orangish yellow. All around, buildings were crumbled and blood stained the floor, emitting a dark aura. "They're gone". He repeated again, standing up.

For many, the boys who had disappeared forever were just two soldiers like any other. For them, their 'death' was as normal as it would be if a normal soldier died. They were just there to fight against the Germans, protect Amestris. For some, they were two boys that had changed the country. Two boys that had a goal, and they were happy for them. They were now living together, and the younger one had his body back. Everything had worked out fine, right?

 _Right_?

While it may look like that, the few that really knew the boys didn't think so. Everything had gone wrong. Not for the boys, obviously, but for them. They were now engulfed in grief and doubt, blaming themselves for everything that had happened. They weren't even sure if the boys had got to the other side safely, and that only made things worse. For Roy Mustang, things were no different. He suddenly found himself in a situation where he was lost in the dark, with nowhere to go. His only sources of light — that being the boys and his long lost friend — were gone from his life.

When that day started, he walked into the cold snowstorm the North had to offer and stood there, waiting for Edward. By noon, however, he was fighting alongside his subordinate, and for that moment he felt truly hopeful. After two years of waiting, the boy returned, bringing hope and joy with him. But then again, isn't that what Edward always did? Wherever he went, he always seemed to bring luck with him, no matter the situation. Mustang felt as if Equivalent Exchange was actually a thing, and as if he was finally paid back for those years of suffering.

Yes, he suffered. He suffered more than anyone. Being the man he was, he waited for him in pure shame and guilt. Not only couldn't he get himself to snap his gloved fingers anymore, but he also couldn't even look into the eyes of his own bodyguard, Riza Hawkeye. It's quite ironic to think that, when he needed her the most, she also couldn't face him due to his new, gloomy personality. Their goodbye wasn't even a proper one: all he did was leave. He boarded the train to the North, telling only Havoc were he was going, and told him to forget about him and keep his location a secret.

When the news that the Colonel had 'mysteriously disappeared' arrived at Riza, she was frightened, but whenever someone offered her the opportunity to be in one of the search teams, she would simply decline and that would be it. If he needed time to reflect, she would give it to him. Her presence would only make him worse, just like it had been in Ishval. She knew he would return when he was ready.

For those two years, while he waited for Edward, she waited for him. She went to his house, cleaned it, bought him groceries, and dusted his clothes. That until he couldn't afford to pay his rent anymore and the house was put on sale. She then started waiting for him at the station, every day before and after work. She would wake up earlier than usual, cook him breakfast, go to the platform and wait. When it was time for her to go, she would leave the food behind with a note, then get him some fresh food from the mess during her lunch break and wait for him again. At night, when the last four trains arrived for the day, she would make him dinner, and if he didn't show up, she would take the pile of boxes with food back home and sigh, only to repeat her actions on the next day.

Riza knew it was wrong. She knew she was wasting her money with food for someone who didn't want to see her anymore. To be honest, she wasn't even sure if he was alive. All she knew was that he disappeared one day, nothing more and nothing less. Maybe the only reason she waited for him and brought him food was to convince herself that he would return. She missed him, even though she never admitted it. She regretted avoiding him on their last days together.

Maybe if she hadn't done that, he would still be there. Maybe she could have helped him get over what had happened. But she ran away like a coward, and now she no longer had a lazy Colonel to scold because he didn't do his paperwork. She no longer had a man to call her at dawn asking her to drive him home from a bar because he had drunk too much. She no longer had a friend that was always there for her, when she needed help the most. Now she only had his ghostly presence, haunting his desk. No one sat there anymore; Havoc and the others requested to leave that desk reserved for when he returned. That is, if he returned.

Riza was mad at him. She was mad at him for making her worry like that. She was mad at him for making her wait for so long. But she was also mad at herself. She wasn't there for the brothers when they needed it, and she wasn't even there for her superior when he needed it. She wasn't able to keep her only promise: to protect him with her life. Everything seemed to be her fault. While everyone was fighting she was just running around, wondering which battle to join. But why? It's not like she would have a brighter future awaiting her if she stained her hands with blood again and experienced more of this hell called reality. Edward and Alphonse already proved that Equivalent Exchange wasn't a thing. They lost their limbs and bodies for nothing, and now Riza had lost the Colonel and the Elrics for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

What she would do if he returned? She wasn't sure. In fact, she had no idea. She wouldn't just salute him casually, that would be too hard for her to do after waiting for him for years. Truth be told, she would probably burst into tears the moment he stepped out of the train, and have to blend into the crowd in embarrassment before regaining her composure and talking to him. Would she actually give him the food? What if he arrived when she wasn't there and didn't see the food and note? Was he already back in the city? Maybe going in dates like he always did, and using the fact that he had disappeared to the country to not go to work. If he was doing that and Riza found out, he would get shot right on that good eye of his and he wouldn't be able to go on dates anymore.

The problem would be that he wouldn't be able to sign his paperwork either, so she would probably avoid shooting it.

After two long years of waiting, he finally returned to her. She was slightly disappointed for not being the first one to see him and announce his return, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he was back. He was safe and strong, using his power for the good of the country. Riza felt uncomfortable, shooting the targets from the shadows while he paraded in front of the enemy, snapping at them while showing off his good looks and new eyepatch. It was almost as if she was showing all of the insecurities she had gained in the Ishvallan War of Extermination, while he hid his behind his performance.

He stopped the enemy fire and gave commands to his men. Riza was so relieved to know he was alive and well that she had to squint her tears away, but couldn't hold the urge to assure him that she had waited for him for all those years, and had not forgotten about him.

"We all waited for you," she explained, a soft smile gracing her lips. She didn't quite know how she was able to look at him after all that had happened. It almost felt as if it didn't happen, and this was just a normal field mission with Edward, Alphonse, and the other men. He briefly returned the smile and greeted her, then asked her to stay there and fight the coming wave of enemies with him. For what seemed to be the first time, she obeyed him without a word in protest. Even though, according to Havoc, he was no longer a Colonel and just an enlisted man, she still respected him as if he were a General, or maybe even the Fuhrer, the only times she wouldn't obey him being when he gave her an order that would make him risk his life. He had given her these types of orders several times before he defeated the former Fuhrer King Bradley, and the reason he lost his left eye was that she obeyed him and wasn't there to back him up during the battle. Since that day, she decided to only obey him if it wouldn't separate her from him. She is his bodyguard, after all.

The enemy started bringing airborne vehicles and Roy requested a balloon to take them down. The balloon was quickly prepared and he went in, creating hot air with alchemy. Riza was finally reunited with him, so it wasn't as if she would just let the man she was supposed to protect wander off alone in a hot air balloon when the sky was filled with warplanes. She dashed towards him but was a bit too late, and he slowly lifted into the atmosphere.

"Sorry, I only have power for one passenger!" He apologized, raising two fingers for whatever reason. Riza knew he was lying and was just worried about her, but Major Armstrong held her down when she tried to jump into the balloon.

"Colonel, you liar!" She shouted, trying to escape the man's grip. He had, however, already flown too high up to hear her, but kept his fingers up as if to repeat what he said last time. "Come back here, or I'll —" She was stopped by a bullet that scratched her shoulder ever so slightly, and noticed she still had work to do. She shrugged Armstrong off her, positioned her rifle and continued resisting, cringing slightly whenever she saw the cold blood leak out of the armors and into plain sight.

Riza kept pulling the trigger, well aware that, with her 99.5% accuracy, a soldier was going to die whenever she did so. She started remembering her experience in the Ishvallan War of Extermination again, and purposely slowed down her pace, intending to gain time while Edward took care of the mastermind behind them instead of eliminating them. They were, after all, just mere Germans that had no knowledge of alchemy whatsoever. They were only being used as weapons to defeat the Amestrian forces, ending up dying themselves instead.

They didn't really have salvation, however. If they stayed back in Germany, they would be forced into the Nazi's uprising and become mere puppets like the others. Wherever they tried to go, they would end up dead. That was the reality for all soldiers, including Riza and her beloved team.

Finally, after a lot of sweat and blood was poured, the Colonel returned. He was in a small capsule transmuted by one of the brothers from what Riza could see, and it crashed onto the already devastated streets of Central City. Riza dropped her weapon and rushed towards the sound, soon meeting up with Winry and Scieszka. The three women quickly scavenged through the wreckage, and Riza sighed in relief when she saw that the Colonel wasn't badly injured. She would make him pay for worrying her like that later. Not now, though. They still had to look for Edward and Alphonse.

"They aren't here," Roy muttered, answering the question poised in Winry's lips.

"What do you mean?" She questioned, clutching the suitcase that once held Edward's automail tighter.

"They went back. Fullmetal was going to go back alone to break the gate, but Alphonse begged to go with him, asking me to break the gate from this world."

"And you just let Al go?! In your mind, he's seventeen, but don't forget that he doesn't remember anything since he was ten! He has only a thirteen-year-old mind now, why did you let him go?!"

"So you would rather lock him in his world while Fullmetal is locked in the other one?"

"Locked?" Winry's legs started trembling and she felt strangely weak.

"The gate is the only path between both worlds. Breaking it means never opening it again," Roy clarified, taking a note from his inner pocket and handing it to her. "Fullmetal told me to give you this."

She took it but immediately ripped it up and threw the pieces onto the floor, squeezing them with her dirty boot. "I don't want it. That idiot is always risking his life for this country. This stupid letter doesn't mean anything to me."

"I imagined that would be your reaction, so I read the letter."

"I said I don't want to know!"

"He said he would miss you," Roy started, ignoring the fact that Winry wasn't hearing. She was covering her ears and screaming some gibberish. "He said he would miss you more than anything, and that, even though he always argued with you and said horrible things to you, he always loved you. He said that, if he could stay in this world, he would be more than happy to marry you. But he did what he did to protect you. Protect you, your grandmother, Private Sciezka, and everyone else."

Riza put an arm on his shoulder and shook her head, signalizing for him to stop. He looked up at Winry, who was now in tears.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, covering his face with his hand and gently rubbing his eye. "I'm sorry."

"No. I can't cry. Ed told me that the next time I cried would be out of happiness. I'm not crying because he is gone, I'm crying because Amestris is safe." There was a clearly fake smile plastered onto her face, and the shake on her voice didn't go unnoticed by anyone. "He will come back. I'm sure he'll find a way. He always does, doesn't he? That idiot. When he comes back, he will bring Al with him, and Al will have all of his memories back. They will visit you and Ms. Riza first, like they always did, and then they would go home to Resembool, and everything would go back to normal, right?"

Roy nodded, even though he knew they were gone forever.

 


	2. Blue, the Sorrow

**sometimes your tears paint the world blue.  
** **it is only then that you may consider yourself sorrowful.**

* * *

 

Doctors rushed around the city, accompanied by the weeping relatives of those injured. Though the battle had barely lasted a day, countless lives were lost and there was nothing anyone could do about it. It all started without a warning, and just the thought of the hopes and dreams buried within every victim disgusted Mustang.

Down in the underground city, sitting right next to him, was Winry, who was no different from the others. She was not physically maimed, but her soul had been cut by the sharpest of swords and her heart was shot by the strongest of bullets. She sat howling on the cold concrete that covered the underground city, covering her eyes with a wrist and a palm. It was a useless position, the tears were far too many to be stopped by her quivering hands, and no matter how hard she pressed the drops would find a way to squeeze out.

Her body was hunched forward, her elbows creasing the fabric of her pants and her knees being tinted by the decomposing paint they were laid upon. It was a truly horrifying sight. All at once, she shrieked and lamented and wailed, barely being able to catch her breath. She was in desperate need of help, but no one offered to do so. No one knew how they would be able to stop the tears from constantly rolling down her eyes. Not Roy. Not Riza. Not Sciezka. Not the remains of Wrath's automail arm. Obviously not the remains of wrath's automail arm, for it was the sight of it that caused the girl to break down.

She was able to stay strong and only weep softly all the way down to the city, but when she recognized the piece of the mechanism and didn't find the owner of it, her emotions took over and she found herself on her current state.

Riza couldn't look at her. She turned away the moment she broke down and covered her ears, her own throat swelling up with guilt. The cool air had suddenly warmed up with tension, the only sound being Winry's voice echoing through the ruins. It sounded so apologetic and grief-stricken, like a melody primarily composed by notes of pure sorrow, and would make anyone run away by fear of being caught up in its hypnotizing ringing.

Finally, Roy had enough of it. He stormed over to her and she shuffled away, almost losing her balance and falling onto her back, still singing the haunting tune but in a more frightened tone. He fisted her hair and tried to drag her down the devastated streets, but she gripped onto a block of rubble with one hand and dug her other nails into the floor, begging him to let her go and scratching the concrete with her bleeding fingers. Letting out a painful yell, Roy yanked her away and squatted down next to the girl, who was now smearing her face with her own blood. He carefully removed her hands from her cheeks, and when her foggy eyes met his, he was not able to remain in his furious persona.

"Your grandmother is waiting," he whispered after an apology, barely being heard over her cries and gently ruffling her hair where he had gripped it. "She'll help you."

He scanned the ruins, searching for Riza, but couldn't see her anywhere. Looking back at Winry, Roy removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders before standing up and calling for his Lieutenant. When he got no reply for the third time, dread took over and his legs decided they wanted to move on their own, taking him with them. He felt it was the right thing to do, as Winry was now in a tight embrace provided by Sciezka, so he obeyed his stubborn limbs, all the while calling out for her.

"Sir," Riza announced with a discrete sniff, meeting up with him at an intersection. He almost jumped back at the sudden appearance but sighed in relief soon after. Unfortunately, his limbs were still in control, so before he could process what was happening his arms wrapped around her body and pulled her close, so close they could barely breathe. She was firstly shocked by the sudden contact, but then relaxed and returned the gesture. "You're such a baby," she chuckled, resting her chin on his shoulders and closing her eyes. As she expected, his body started quivering and her shoulder was peppered by his tears, the water sinking through her jacket and dampening her shirt. "Such a baby," she repeated, the shake on her voice as clear as glass.

There was a brief moment of complete silence. Winry seemed to have calmed down, as not even her voice was heard. In contrast, the two soldiers were still firmly gripping each other, as if they would disappear in a sea of darkness should they let go. Roy sang his own quiet melody, trapped in this beautiful yet tragic moment. Unlike Winry's legato notes, however, his melody consisted of short, staccato gasps that kept escaping his lips without his consent.

"We need to go," Riza whispered reluctantly, breaking the peaceful silence. She immediately regretted saying that; she wished she could stay in Roy's weak arms forever. Much to her dislike, however, he nodded and pulled away, then smiled as he dabbed her damp cheeks with his gloved thumb, absorbing the tiny tears.

"You were crying?" He questioned, though the answer was clear. Without replying, Riza wiped her face with her jacket and started making her way back to where the others awaited. Like hypothesized, Winry was now asleep, her head resting on Sciezka's lap. The Private was brushing her hair with her delicate fingers, her own eyes red and swollen. Riza kneeled down and was about to shake the girl awake when Sciezka swatted her hand away. Hawkeye shot a quizzical look at her, rubbing her hand with the other one.

"You really want her to wake up here? Don't forget that this transmutation circle took the three boys she loved the most in one day," Sciezka pointed out, slipping her hands under Winry's arms and gently lifting her up. "She inhaled a lot of smoke, we should take her to the hospital for a quick check."

Riza, who was only as tall as a meter and sixty-five, didn't even bother offering to take her up the somewhat infinite staircase. Roy, in turn, was taller, so he leaned down to help the woman attach her to his back. Winry grunted in response but quickly got used to his hard torso, diving back into her hopefully happy dream. They started making their way up the stairs, leaving behind the city they wished they could send to another dimension.

While going up, Riza kept her mind fixed on Mustang's embrace. He felt warm against her, his quivering chin softly pecking her shoulder. She had never seen him show such affection towards her in public. Usually, Roy would only dare touch her both physically or emotionally after the common nightmares of Ishval, when he would wake up in a panic and call her. Most of the times, however, she would hear his yells from her apartment on the military building and knock on his door seconds later. He would unlock the door carefully, and only fully open it once he was sure it was Riza and Riza only. Of course, there was nothing she could do to help him sleep, so they would talk until morning about anything that could distract his mind from the extermination. Before she left to get ready for work, they would share one final embrace before parting ways, but even then he wouldn't dare cry on her shoulder.

That final embrace was usually a sorrowful yet thankful one. They knew it would be the last one for days, or maybe even weeks, but they were thankful both that Roy opened up and that Riza was there to help him.

Since Hughes' passing, Roy's mental health had rapidly declined, and she would often catch him drinking himself to oblivion after nightmares of his death. They weren't as common as the Ishval ones, but they struck him right through the heart and up towards his brain, giving control to his impulses and subconscious.

These nightmares were dangerous. He wouldn't let a sound come out of his mouth when he had one and would stumble towards a new whiskey bottle, quickly dumping it down his throat. How would Riza find out? Well, like any human being, he gets drunk, and a drunk Roy is easy to spot.

First, the phone would ring and she would groggily answer, thinking it was Rebecca to complain about a boyfriend. After a string of murmured curses left her mouth, he would finally start his terrible and confusing pick-up lines.

"Hey, darling, I feel so horny I could turn into a goat at any moment," he would mumble against the phone, then snicker and hung up, only to call her again and add another drunk statement.

"You dreamed, didn't you?" she would reply on the third call, already slipping on a coat and shoving her feet in her slippers, the phone pressed between her shoulder and ear.

"Honey, you honestly think I don't dream? I'm becoming the Bradley one day, don't forget. Yes, hot as Broadway boys..." She could swear he had puckered his lips and was brushing them against the phone as he spoke, and to make it grosser he would make chewing sounds and snicker afterward.

"I'm on my way."

"On your way to what? Wonderland?"

Just like that, she would hang up and sprint towards his apartment, fear knotting up in her chest as she thought of the image of him splayed across the floor just after Ishval, surrounded by pills and empty alcohol bottles. It had taken all of her will not to give up like he almost did, and now it was her duty to make sure he would continue living.

Nightmares of Ishval were common for both of them, and since they were well aware of that, they would immediately come in contact to talk, even if it was only to cry into the phone. That was usually Riza's case, for she wasn't nearly as good as him at controlling emotions.

Except in public, where she usually did an excellent job in keeping a poker face.

After each nightmare, which happened at least once every two weeks, she wouldn't wake up with a screech like the others usually would. She would wake up with tears in her eyes and biting her lip so hard it bled. She would quickly reach over to the phone and dial Roy's number, keeping her body curled into a ball under her sheets in fear of her ankle being gripped by one of the Ishvalans she had murdered. Maybe even all of them, she wasn't sure.

Her trembling arms would reach for the phone and squeeze it between her ear and the pillow, the deadly silence making her heart thump louder and louder. Often, she would shut her eyes and raise the blanket to cover her whole body, the sweat on her skin not being a valid excuse for her to uncover herself, nor the fact that Roy hadn't picked up. She knew he had probably woken up just in time for the telephone to stop ringing, and would return the call in a matter of seconds. Decidedly, Riza would quickly drop the phone back onto the receiver and wait, covering her ears to avoid the suffering voices echoing through her mind.

Then the shrilling of the phone would jolt her up, finally getting a short gasp to slip past her lips. The phone would sound for a long time, as she needed some to calm down her heart and organize her thoughts. Finally, she would pick it up and go back to her initial position, whispering a soft yet shaky 'hello.'

"Another one?" His deep, groggy voice was no louder than a whisper, and she knew he was worried by the way he puffed into the phone.

"Yes," she would reply.

"I'm listening, you can say whatever you want and omit whatever you want." And that would be it. Mid-way through her description she would burst into tears and he would just listen, doing his best not to mirror her condition. It was hard being on the receiving end of Riza's cries. She was a strong woman that was known for being a perfect example of a dog, yet there she was, completely out of control; completely human. That was a side of her that only Roy knew, and she liked it like that. It was a weak side that would take over her body just at the thought of the massacre, and she would have no option but to let it leave her in the form of tears and hiccups.

Depending on the time and how scared she was, Roy would go up to her apartment and use the spare key he kept with him for these occasions to come in. He knew she would jump as soon as his footsteps entered the residence, so he always made sure to rush to her bedroom before she grew too frightened. He would sit down on her bed and tell her a story, maybe about a drunk man he met at a bar or an old lady who wanted to hit on him. For that moment, Riza would feel like an innocent child for the only time in her life.


	3. White, the Prologue

**every story has a start, when a writer can scribble her thoughts into a white world.  
** **it is only then that a book truly starts; when the reader truly dives into the words.**

* * *

 

The group finally reached the surface and Winry was woken up and put down. She drowsily scrambled to her feet but kept her hand on Mustang's arm for support as her blurred vision cleared out, her memories still slightly messy and confusing. Not long after, Hawkeye spotted a doctor, who in turn quickly escorted the girl to a tent where other patients were being cared for. While she was being tested, Riza used the opportunity to check if her superior was okay. He was talking to a few other soldiers, probably about the damage and how to pay for it. Amestris wasn't in a great financial condition lately, so they would probably need help from other nations, which would be embarrassing for both the civilians and government officials.

Riza walked over to where the conversation was taking place and started listening carefully to develop her opinions. It was clear that she had no place in that group as a Lieutenant, but the fact that Corporal Mustang was sharing his ideas was equally interesting. As soon as Riza opened her mouth to suggest her ideas, however, a coat was hung onto her arm and the conversation resumed without her. Several times, she tried to speak over the men or in small intervals, only to be stopped again.

Soon, another coat was handed to her, followed by a 'thank you' that was thrown into her mouth and shoved down her throat. It was an interesting sight, really. Riza had ideas and everyone present knew she had a functioning brain, unlike a few superior officers and several soldiers. She wasn't sure if they were doing it on purpose or if it was just normal to assume that she would happily hold their coats since she was always carrying Roy's around, but it really got on her nerves that they didn't even ask for her thoughts.

Despite the fact that Hawkeye understood their point of view, what made her heart clench was that, even though some of the men probably wished, they were not Roy. They did not have the right to give her their coats, and much less without asking. She was Roy's bodyguard, not theirs. She was Roy's assistant, not theirs. She was Roy's Lieutenant, not theirs. Where in that tiny brain of theirs was the idea that she was a moving wardrobe? At least from her perspective, being a moving piece of research was already more than enough, and she always had the urge to smack that information onto their faces for them to stop treating her like an object.

Since her father tattooed her, Riza no longer had the right to call herself a child and was treated like a notebook. She couldn't wear bikinis, she couldn't have a boyfriend, she couldn't even make close friends because the man thought she would tell them. There was nothing she could do with her life, only stay at home like a miserable woman and cook and clean and wash. Her moments of relief were when she stepped into school, where she felt safe and free. Though she was quite lonely, it's not every child that has a permanent tattoo that covers her whole back, so the urge to boast about it was always whispering into her ear.

Then Roy came into her life.

It was a white and cold evening, maybe way too white and too cold. Her father had left like he usually did, probably to go to a laboratory or library, but reading in the dim light of her room was Riza, often smiling at the thought of Berthold getting caught in a snowstorm. A bad thought, may I say, because she was supposed to be an innocent thirteen-year-old, not a bloodthirsty demon.

Well, under her father's roof, anyone was easily turned into a bloodthirsty demon, so I guess it's not that bad of a thought.

When the doorbell rang, she grunted in disappointment and scrambled down the steps, already narrowing her eyes. Suddenly, the door looked big and intimidating, and she assumed it was also a bloodthirsty demon. Why exactly she couldn't make herself reach the doorknob was out of her understanding, but it was true that she had probably never touched it before. Her father was the one who usually opened it, and he always took a spare key with him, which meant…

"Go away, you filthy thief!" She screeched, poking her head out a nearby window. Standing outside was a bulky, black coat, with a young man inside it who held a suitcase with his thick gloves. He glanced at her with a bored look and lingered towards the hole on the wall.

"Hello, ma'am, as you can see, I am in desperate need of warmth," he recited, obviously practicing this sentence over and over again on his way to the cottage.

"Then find yourself a residence, this is not a hotel!" Riza banged the window shut but kept the curtains to make sure he would leave.

He did not. He just stared at her, his eyes half-closed and his eyebrows trying to pull the lids up. She didn't leave either. She glared back, crossing her arms in front of her chest and tapping her foot. They stared for what seemed like hours (keyword: seemed) until the man finally put his suitcase down and slid a hand into his pocket, pulling a tiny piece of paper out. Laboriously, he unfolded the paper with his big fingers and squinted at it, glancing at Riza every once in a while. He put the paper down and rubbed his hands together, then pressed his right index finger against the windowpane. Slowly, his finger danced around the glass, sketching letters onto it. When he was done, he knocked twice on the window to get her attention and pointed at the writing.

' _Hawkeye?_ ' It said, a few characters written incorrectly since he tried to letter it rightly from Riza's point of view, not his. She shrugged, but nothing was said. Frowning, the man walked away, his ankles sinking into the snow. Riza watched, satisfied, until she noticed he looked just like the visitor her father had mentioned earlier. Before she knew it, she had haphazardly jumped out the window, kissing the snow layered on the porch.

Her face burned. Her arms burned. Everything burned beneath her as if she was swimming on lava. Due to the warmth of her house, Riza was wearing only her nightgown and a thin coat, and that certainly wasn't enough when exposed to all the snow awaiting her. In one quick motion, she stood back up, wrapping her arms around the body and roughly rubbing her elbows. "Hello?! Sir?!" She called, trying to stop her teeth from quivering. "Sir?!"

"Not Sir, Roy. My name is Roy," he corrected, waving the back of his hand at her. "I'm looking for Mr. Berthold Hawkeye, so I'll just return tomorrow. Have a good day."

"Wait!" Riza tripped her way towards him, feeling the beginning of a snowfall on her head and shoulders. The snow crunched under her bare feet, sending shivers all the way up to her spine. "The nearest city is hours away from here, you'll die before you get there!"

Roy turned around, smirking incredulously at her garments. "Who are you to tell me that?"

"Well, I am Riza Hawkeye, it's a pleasure to meet you." She took his hand to shake it, but a small part of her only did that for warmth. "As Berthold's daughter, it is my duty to make sure his guests survive. He'll be home by night anyway, so it's pointless to find a hotel far away."

"That's not exactly what I meant, but thank you very much for the offer. However," he turned around in his heels, "I cannot accept it as I am not in the mood of babysitting a little girl."

She swirled him back to face her by his arm, then confidently stated, "I may be small for my age, but —" a shiver. "I may be small for my age, but I can assure you I am quite independent. Numbers can't really decide one's maturity, and in fact, you don't look that —" once again, she paused, but this time because her words jumbled up into one even she couldn't understand. She cleared her sore throat and excused herself before continuing. "Look that old yourself."

"I'll be sixteen in three months, so I can find myself a hotel nearby easily."

Riza tried to organize her thoughts into words, but they came out like a big, messy snowball, rolling out of her tongue. She tried again, and again, and again, but nothing changed. Her jaw seemed to unhinge from her skull, her teeth chattering and fighting against each other, no matter how hard she tried to stop them. Immediately, she understood her body needed to go back into the coziness of the house, and she scurried towards it in slippery, clumsy steps. Goosebumps prickled her fragile skin, erecting the tiny hairs on her legs and arms, and her feet were at the verge of going completely numb.

And so they did. She tumbled forward and into the snow, only to painfully rise back up. Her hair was now glistening with white beads, her chapped blue lips slowly bleeding. She looked back in horror as words refused to leave her mouth, and in a matter of seconds, Roy had lifted her into the air and was taking her back to the porch. He could feel her trembling against his chest and looked down to see that her eyes had closed and her hands had found their way into her mouth. When they went too far back, she gagged and pulled them away, quickly slipping them into the opposite sleeve. She coughed dryly, gasping after each assault until she could barely breathe and her consciousness started to vanish.

"The keys, Hawkeye, I need the keys!" He shook her, uselessly trying to wake her up, until he gave up and carefully passed her small body through the window, making sure she had a soft landing. He then jumped in himself as far away from her as he could, closing the window to prevent any wind from cooling the house.

Now he had a very, very hard mission. Two, to be exact. The first one being finding Riza's room. The second one being taking in the appearance of the house.

It had a toxic smell, as strong as tobacco and as bad as body odors. The floorboards groaned and the doors rattled with every step he took, and he had a tiny fear of the whole structure collapsing onto him. Every corner had a spider web, topped by centuries-old dust that was catapulted into the air by the wood under it whenever Roy stepped onto said plank. On the living room, there was only a sofa sitting against the wall and a coffee table before it.

Roy made his way up the rotten stairs, praying for it not to fall, then glanced inside each room. They were all empty except for a bed that was probably never touched or dusted. Finally, he found a slightly bigger one, with an organized bed and desk, absolutely opposing the rest of the house. It looked like a whole new world, as if the door was a portal. The walls were a clean white, decorated by anti-military propaganda, and the shelves were filled with books and journals. Her sheets were straight and ironed, and the pillows were arranged in a way that would make anyone want to sink into them.

He envied Riza's position as he lowered her into them, but also pitied the fact that her clothes were soaked with freezing water and he couldn't do anything about it. Her face was pale, and her eyebrows twitched in pain. As soon as her boy hit the mattress, she curled herself into a ball and thanked him quietly, trying her best to smile.

"May I get a towel?" He checked, wrapping a quilt around her. She nodded faintly, so he went into the bathroom and grabbed the thickest towel he could find. It was a blue one that matched her bedsheets that matched the theme of the room, and he immediately noticed that Riza was not a disorganized girl. Sighing, he pulled her cold boy out of the covers and wrapped the towel around it before tucking her back in, using every single blanket he could find in an attempt to warm her up. "Would you like anything?"

A bundle of words and a 'drink' mixed into it.

Roy nodded and started to leave but was stopped by another bundle of words. He asked her to repeat, but it was yet another bundle of words. "Slowly," he prompted, articulating to stress that advice. Riza started to sit up, but her vision blurred and she was forced down.

"My clothes," she started, but wasn't able to form the rest of her sentence. "My clothes," once again, she failed. Finally, after opening and closing her eyes and mouth several times, she spoke clearly… or almost clearly. "My clothes are wet, I need to change."

"Sure? You should rest, change when you start feeling better."

The chattering teeth paused for a moment and air was allowed through them, but no response. She closed her mouth again, resuming the actions, and that was really all Roy needed. He made his way back to her bedside and carefully pulled her into a sitting position. Slowly, she slid her legs out of the bed and rubbed her forehead, probably trying to stop a lurking headache. She then weakly gripped his forearms and pulled herself up, only to slip forward and bury her face in his coat.

After a quick apology, Riza gradually removed a hand, pressing it against her bed for balance, then followed suit with the other. Gently, she took a step forward, but before she knew it her chin dug into the floor and her vision faded to black.

"Idiot, I knew it!" Roy called, lifting her back up. Her eyes, though they opened a few times for seconds, were lost and tired. Blood leaked out of her gum and nose due to the impact and tears were forced onto her eyes, even though she was clearly not aware of them. Roy had just enough time to cover her back up and clean the excess blood when the main door screamed, announcing someone's arrival.

In the blink of an eye, Mustang had already rushed towards it and greeted the middle-aged man that came in, quickly introducing himself and explaining Riza's situation. "Her clothes are wet, sir, I think it would be best to change her into dry ones."

Berthold Hawkeye's small, empty eyes narrowed, and his lips curved into an evil smirk. It was only briefly, however, so briefly that Roy didn't notice — which lead him to almost jump in shock at his master's next words.

It was a miserable sight, really. The man was probably in his late forties or early fifties, but he emitted a dark and traumatizing aura that seemed to age his soul, resulting in an elderly look. Had Mustang not researched about him, he would think he was Riza's grandfather or an older uncle. In fact, the only thing that both of them had in common was the dry, blond hair, which for him, as opposed to Riza's, hung several centimeters below his chest.

Finally, he shrugged and smiled kindly, which contrasted greatly with his intentions. "Just let her die already. It would be a waste of supplies to try to warm her up," he chuckled, heading towards a narrow door.

Mustang faked a laugh, not finding the humor in his joke. When he noticed the man made no move to actually help his daughter, he protested against the inhuman idea.

"If you want Elizabeth to live, go help her yourself, because I really don't care. My wife left me with her eight years ago, and to be honest, my life has never been so miserable," Berthold announced, entering the door and going down a staircase, probably.

With a low huff, Roy turned around and went back up the stairs and into Riza's room, where a sick human sushi laid unconscious. She looked so innocent, her round nose and cheeks pale except for the bright pink blush that dared to creep onto them.

For obvious reasons, he would not find out if she was breathing by touching her neck or chest, so instead, he pressed his thumb against her wrist, stopping his own breathing to concentrate. After waiting a few seconds and not feeling any signs of a pulse, he changed his position, bringing the digit a bit to the left. Once again, almost nothing. The man kept dabbing his finger around her wrist until finally, he felt a low but noticeable throb.

"I apologize in advance, Ms. Hawkeye, but this is for your own good," Roy muttered, removing the pile of blankets from her petite body. After maximizing the heater, he picked her up and laid her next to it, lifting the nightgown ever so slightly to rush the drying.

When he thought the excess water was gone, he went back to business. Initially, since a few blankets were also wet, he made sure to discard those and look for new ones. Next, for comfort, he placed a pillow under her damp hair and massaged her scalp with a towel, finally earning a response in return.

It wasn't the best response he could get on that situation, but it was more than enough to send a wave of relief through his body. Softly, Riza cracked her eyes open, blinking slowly a few times before shutting them completely once again. She kept repeating this sequence, and he could tell that she was somewhat scared and lost. Well, who can blame her? It's not every day that you wake up next to a man you don't remember meeting and so close to a heater your skin burns.

Finally, she split her lips apart, trying to form words, but nothing came out. She moved them over and over again, but so little movement was made that even if she was able to talk no one would be able to hear her. Before she could help it, her face twisted and contorted into various different wrinkles Roy had no idea a thirteen-year-old could have, and a tear left her eye, followed by numerous others, but not yet forming a complete sob.

"What's wrong?" Roy wondered, removing the towel from her head. Riza's body kept motionless, except for the constant jumps on her chest due to the hiccups. She tried and tried to form words, but whenever she was able to start a sentence it would either be cut off by a gasp or it would quickly turn into gibberish. Eventually, her face was covered by her palms and she began to wail, folding her legs up and tucking her toes underneath her feet.

Thank you, she wanted to say, thank you for taking care of this incompetent girl you just met.

Unfortunately, before words were exchanged, Berthold's thunderous voice echoed through the house. "Shut up, Elizabeth!" it ordered, traveling down the corridor, into the room, and slapping her on her already pink cheek. With a lot of effort, Riza mentally straightened her tongue and placed it on the correct position, finally being able to reply. First, she corrected her father. Apparently, he was so ignorant he didn't even know his own daughter's name.

"It's Riza!" she screeched, a pain striking her throat. A good pain, however, that came with the amazing feeling of being right. Roy seemed to back off a few centimeters due to her scream, but quickly returned, removing her hands from her face and dropping his head so that their noses almost touched. Immediately, Riza smiled, then sniffed once before pushing him away with her heavy arms. As soon as a chuckle left her, however, her head seemed to boil and she had to force herself to a stop.

Roy helped her sit up yet again but didn't allow her to stand just yet, asking for medicine instead. She tilted her head in confusion, then stopped to think.

"You don't know what's medicine?" Roy questioned, sitting down himself. Riza's expression didn't change, but she slowly crawled towards her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a small box. She handed it to him as soon as she returned to her original spot, then helped him uncap it.

Horror was not enough to describe Roy's appearance as he lifted the lid. A strong, poisonous scent wrapped around him and was forced into his nostrils the more he kept the box open. "Riza, these are not medicine," he murmured, staring deep into her eyes. "Why do you have this?"

"My father told me it was medicine, but that I could only use it in cases of emergency before I turned eighteen," she explained, pulling a cigarette out of the box and rolling it between her palms. "I never used it, though."

"Throw it away."

Riza stopped rolling and fixed her gaze back at him. "What?"

"This is not medicine, Riza, throw it away."

"Then what is this?"

Roy sighed and shut the box. Tension stretched between the two of them and was so tight it could be cut by a plastic sword. His breath came out in slow exhales, blowing out of his mouth, and he could feel the unease in the girl's gaze. Her hands shakily tried to take the box from his grasp, but he held it tighter and looked up at her, trying not to let his dread spill onto his expression. "I don't mean to pry, but is there something going on between you and your father?"

Riza's hands fell back onto the floor in front of her and she considered for a minute before answering. "Nothing unusual, why?" Truth be told, she didn't really want to know why.

"What I am about to tell you might be a bit shocking, so -"

"Then don't say it. If it's something bad, I don't want to know." Riza snatched the box from him and slammed it shut, wincing at the sound as it pounded through her ears. When she was about to stand up, Roy grabbed her arm and held her down, then allowed his hands to travel up to her shoulders.

"Promise me one thing. It's all I ask," he begged, lightly squeezing her body. "Don't you ever touch those things again. Throw them away, even if you have to throw it out the window, but don't you ever get close to this box again."

And so she did.

But not yet, I'm anticipating myself. Please wait a few more months, or a few more chapters, if that's how you call it.

 


End file.
